


Memories

by ssg



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, adult!Annie, saw a writing prompt on tumblr and, well. you'll see.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssg/pseuds/ssg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and other things, was originally just a tumblr prompt but decided to add more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Argumentative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is pretty much based off of this post here http://sabotagebysabatons.tumblr.com/post/99729795952/tickatocka-i-really-want-an-i-accidentally but I've tweaked some things. MF, Annie and Lux have nothing to do with the plot besides being the employees of the bar for the first half of the story's setting.  
> 

He could've sworn he walked into the right house. But this place was way too unfamiliar - and who owned the damn cats walking all over him?

Malcolm Graves could handle his drink very well, but challenge him to a contest and he will drink until he drops.

Gragas was infamous around the local bar for how frequently he drank there. Alcohol was water to him, and he could drink everyone at the bar under the table. He was the champion, he even had a trophy (a cheap plaque, to be specific) that the owner of Phalanges (what kind of bar name was a synonym for fingers, anyway?) went out and made just for him. His beer belly was a force to be reckoned with, and his beard was far too frequently the victim of dribbles of various types of alcohol, making it coarse and dry-looking. Malcolm had been wanting to challenge him for a while, even practicing a little for the impending event.

When he finally felt practiced enough, he sat next to Gragas at the bar that night and nudged him with his elbow, earning a raised eyebrow from the (nearly) professional drinker. Graves grinned back, feeling confident in himself - he knew he had a chance of losing, but that didn't really matter. At least he'd have fun, and hopefully make it back home. (He's just lucky he could walk, there was no way he was driving home after that.) "How many have ya' had already, tubby? Hope you're still up for a challenge."

"Wot? Ya' think I'm jusht gonna take tha'? You're goin' down, Mishter Malcolm." Like always, his voice was slurred. It sounded like he was always drunk, but drinking more never seemed to bother him. He put particular emphasis on 'Malcolm', because it's commonly known that he didn't like to be called by his first name. Graves's expression became determined, and Gragas ordered their drinks. "Oi! Bartendah! We got ourshelves anotha ol' crazy tha' thinksh he can besht me! Gimme ten!" The bartender went to go get the owner of the bar before serving the drinks, because the owner loves to watch the competitions. She'd always laugh when one hit the floor, out cold, and she'd go get a bucket of water to dump on them. Nobody really knew the owner's real name (except the bartender, who was a young woman that called herself Lux), so she was given the alias Fortune, because she was lucky the bar was still bringing in a profit. The bar wasn't necessarily akin to a trash can, but needless to say, bar fights happen rarely because those who do cause a conflict are often forced into paying up. Fortune can't afford to repair anything, and no one would dare deny her with Shock and Awe (the handguns she keeps in her boots) staring them in the face.

Lux brought back Fortune and then started distributing out the beer. "So who's paying for this?" her light voice asked. "You, Gragas?"

The champion nodded. "Tha's righ', I go' it. Don't worry."

Fortune crossed her arms as she watched the endeavor passively, narrowing her eyes at Graves. She knew him a little, but never really talked to him. She liked to get to know the names of her bar's patrons, especially since some of them would tip more generously when she came by. The only waitress she hired was some girl she found off the street, named Annie. She was just barely 18, but why should she care? She was another pretty girl that knew how to bat her eyelids and play nice around the drunks, worming her way into acquiring more tips. 

However, Graves never seemed to be affected by their demeanor. He always paid the same amount (slightly more than the average tip) if he ordered anything. Sometimes he just comes by to hang out and watch some of the sports on the one television screen Fortune managed to get. Graves was always quiet in comparison to the others, never the one to jump and cheer at something exciting. It was odd that he was suddenly bringing attention to himself by challenging Gragas.

Gragas was on his fifth by the time Graves downed the second. The current champion belched loudly, and waited patiently with a patronizing smile. "You're jusht adorable, thinkin' you can beat me." Speed drinking wasn't Malcolm's strong suit. He could drink over long periods of time, but he was nowhere near prepared for this. His training was all for naught, so it seemed. He ended up drinking four of the beers and stopping about halfway through the fifth, feeling sick. Gragas wasn't the kind to boast, fortunately, so he just went back to what he was doing before - watching the screen. After Graves got sick in the men's room, he started walking home - or what he thought was home. He knew the neighborhood relatively well - there's the tree that's always dead, there's the house with the one cracked window... he opened the door to his home, quietly shut it, and threw his T-shirt to the floor before flopping onto the couch.

The next morning, the light felt like hell. His head pounded, and his stomach curled. What was he thinking, challenging someone with a beer belly that massive? Idiot. There was no way he... could've... what's that...? Something pricking at his belly...

He shaded his eyes from the light and looked down at himself, to see a Russian Blue sitting on him and kneading his abdomen. A cat? He didn't have cats. The last pet he had was Dilly, and it's been years since he's thought about that chocolate lab. Poor girl had to be put down, she lived too long to go on. So what was this cat doing here? Maybe it walked in when he opened the door or something...

The cat reluctantly jumped onto the floor when Malcolm brushed it aside, and he let out a groan in his groggy, hungover stupor. The couch felt really warm for some reason... and smooth... leather? No, that can't be right. Where is the damn light coming from? He looked around for his shirt, not seeing it anywhere. There was only one thing left to do - get up.

The carpet felt nice on his bare feet. It looked exceptionally clean, and even white - he didn't have white carpet. And he wasn't barefoot - where were his socks and shoes? It didn't take long to connect the dots; he was in someone else's home, and they'd done something with his stuff. Normally he'd be irritated, but he figured he was the one at fault here, not whoever lived in this house. He rubbed his eyes, trying to block out the light again. When he opened them again, he blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting. "Hello?" he called.

The cat he pushed away was at his feet now, brushing against his legs, wanting attention. Malcolm failed to oblige, however, more concerned about the fact that he was in some rich person's house and that he was hungover, shirtless and felt nasty. He could only hope that the owner of this way-too-fancy home was nice about this situation.

He could smell something and hear a general clatter coming from the kitchen - someone was in there. He should probably go in there to let them know he was awake, just to be safe...

What he found was another man, in a T-shirt and jeans, cooking what smelled like breakfast - the general aroma of toast, eggs, and sausage. The man's stature, however, was shocking. He was at least half a foot taller than himself, and from what he could see by his arms, his physique was incredible. Blue tattoos skittered across his pale skin, and his bald head reflected the kitchen lights above. "Uhh... Sorry about bustin' in your house last night. Thought I was home, think I was a few houses off." The taller man turned briefly, warm teal eyes visible to the uninvited guest for a moment. Was that a mustache?

"Do not worry about it, it is fine with me that you are here." His accent was foreign, almost... Scandinavian? It wasn't quite Russian, but it was hard to place with a country. His English seemed a little lacking, but that's fine, not everyone learns English as their first language. "What is your name?" Graves felt the need to answer, since he was technically trespassing on this man's property. "Malcolm Graves, but you can call me Graves." "Graves." Malcolm wasn't going to ask for the other's name, but he answered the unspoken question anyway. "I am Braum. What brought you here yesterday?" The guest grew sheepish, answering with a small frown. "I drank a bit too much and walked into the wrong house." He figured the answer was obvious, since he probably smelled like alcohol. No point in lying.

Braum didn't answer then, only moving past Graves to get a couple of plates and a serving spoon to start getting food for the two of them. Graves felt his skin tingle when Braum brushed past him, suddenly aware that he still wasn't wearing a shirt. "Do you have somethin' I could wear?" Braum shook his head. "I put your clothes in the washer, except your pants. Come eat." He brought the two plates to a table across the kitchen, in its own dining area. Graves's feet felt cold against the hardwood floor, and his back felt the same against the metal chair. The food, however, was anything but cold. After Braum gave him a fork, he ate carefully, taking the utmost care so that his table manners didn't make him look rude, but it was one of the better meals he'd had for some time. Braum himself didn't seem to mind, and he ate without caution. He ate faster because of this, so he waited for Graves to be done before he took their plates and put them in the sink after rinsing them off.

Malcolm watched him carefully the whole time, which Braum noticed. "Can I be honest with you, Graves?" Malcolm nodded, feeling a shift in his tone. Braum continued. "I have a shirt that would fit you fine, but I like to see you without the shirt." Woah. He was hitting on him. Direct, straightforward. Holy. Shit.

His cheeks burnt bright red, and he had to recollect himself before he could reply to Braum. "Should I get goin'? I don't, ah, wanna be a burden or anything... I can just walk home like this..." Braum frowned. "No, you don't have to leave. I'm sorry, was that too much?" Graves thought this over for a moment, biting his lower lip. He'd fuck this guy in an instant, bottom, top, both, whatever, he would climb him like a mountaineer. Might as well, right? He probably wouldn't be seeing this guy again, besides the occasional passing on the streets or something.

"What about you? Do I not get to see you without one?" Time to flirt back.

Braum didn't even hesitate in taking his shirt off, neatly folding it and putting it on the dining table. "You could see me with less."

Graves narrowed his eyes at the man, and it's like they pounced on each other at the same time. Graves greedily unbuckled his host's belt while they frantically kissed, desperate to shed their clothing. Braum's pants and boxers dropped to the floor, and Graves was on his knees to take his manhood into his mouth and bob his head fervently. Braum grabbed his hair tightly and lunged inward slightly, filling his mouth. There was no way Malcolm could handle all of it, the man too well-endowed. Luckily he stopped himself from making him choke, loosening his hold on his hair. "Fuck," Braum moaned. He let Graves have him for a few moments, but soon he was robbed of the warmth of the mouth on his dick, as he led Malcolm by the arm back to his bedroom.

Braum released him once they were in the room, and he dug into the nightstand to get out his lube. Graves stripped to the skin and laid in bed, waiting. Braum lubed himself up and lifted Graves's legs, leaning into his body. He angled himself right so that he could enter his guest and kiss him at the same time, driving him insane by going ridiculously slow. Malcolm grabbed Braum's ass and tried to force him to thrust harder by pushing, to which Braum hissed "Malcolm!", breaking character for a moment. "You're such an impatient little man." "I'm not fuckin' little, fuck me you meathead." "Don't tell me what to do." "Fuck. Me."

Braum went completely out of character then, since apparently the scenario was being called off by his 'guest'. "You were the one that wanted the story, Malcolm, and now you are calling it off?" Graves gritted his teeth, yearning for more of his man. "God damn it, just... Oh!" He was cut off by Braum hitting his prostate, smiling as if to spite him. Malcolm, however, was unperturbed. "If ya' know where to do it, then fuckin' do it." "You don't think I will?" "Oh, I know ya' will, that's why I want it already." "Patience is a virtue." "My ass is a fuckin' virtue."

Braum started hitting him harder, hips clapping against Graves's thighs in an accelerating rhythm. Malcolm let him know how he was doing. "Oh! Oh, fuck. Fuck." He clenched his teeth and let out a pained keen, along with a "mmmmmm" followed after it. "Like that. Yes. Harder." "Malcolm, stop being so bossy!" "I'm not bein' bossy! I'm tellin' you what to do?" "In what world is that not bossy?" "In the world where you're - fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck - the world where you're -" He keened again, Braum not allowing him to speak, laughing the entire time. They kissed again, silencing both of them complaining. Graves used his right hand to start pleasuring himself, and once the hand was added, it wasn't long before he came on himself, letting out a loud "Ah! Oh!" as Braum didn't stop. Fortunately, Braum wasn't too far behind, letting himself go inside his lover.

"So did ya' like it?"  
"What?"  
"The story!"  
"Oh! Well... Malcolm, if you like it, then I like it."  
"That makes me think ya' didn't like it."  
"I don't really mind."  
"That doesn't answer my question."  
"I love you. How is that?"  
Graves smiled, then kissed Braum on the cheek. "Yeah. I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about the AU - it's basically the real world, except there's some otherworldly things here and there, like Gragas's impossible ability to drink until he becomes a water balloon.  
> The relationship - they're not married, but they've been together for a while, and Graves suggested they do this scenario thing to add some flavor to the bedroom. The challenge thing with Gragas was just an excuse to get drunk to start the event.  
> ssg, will you finally be making a story that you'll be adding more parts to? Well, if anyone was actually asking that question and/or cares about this ship/fic, then chances are that it's likely that I'll occasionally be adding stuff. Drabbles, thoughts, history, more headcanons, all kinds of things. I might just go onto different things altogether. Dunno.


	2. Sing

Braum stared at Malcolm with impatient excitement, noticing that he had his guitar out. Very rarely did Malcolm actually bring out his instrument of choice, and Braum had no idea what the occasion was. All he knew was that his love was exceptional at playing the acoustic guitar.

He started strumming, tuning the guitar, and smiled up at Braum assuringly - he knew he loved hearing him sing and play.

They sat together on the deck in the backyard of their house, next to the firepit with its metal curtain drawn shut. The fire should last for some time, its height peaking just below the hole in the center of its covering, smoke rising through said hole. The moon was in one of its waxing phases, a solitary crescent hovering above. The occasional star became visible, the city's lights too nearby to see all of them clearly.

Graves cleared his throat, then began to sing. Braum watched his fingers as he strummed expertly, and the chords were... slightly familiar. He'd heard that song commonly played on the radio - where had he heard it from again?

"Hold on... to me, as we go," Graves started. It suddenly dawned on Braum - it was Home, but he didn't know the actual artist, just the title. The song itself brought back a lot of thoughts, and it struck a nerve, hearing it all of a sudden. In a good way, sort of.

"As we roll down... this unfamiliar road." He thought about the first time he met Malcolm - it was an online date sort of thing, and he smiled when he remembered how much of a nervous wreck he was to meet the man. They had been talking for a couple of months after encountering each other through vlogging (popular YouTubers tend to get to know other popular YouTubers, as per usual) and decided that they should try something out. Braum flew across an ocean to come meet Malcolm in America, and he was so excited to have the newcomer in his home country that he had to show him everything. Texas was nowhere near how cold it was back home. In fact, he found himself commonly wearing T-shirts because of how hot and dry the land was. They've made plans to move elsewhere, but that's something yet to come.

"And although this wave... is stringing us along...  
Just know you're not alone -  
'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home."  
He felt so welcome in Texas, all because of Malcolm. Even the heat was bearable with him there. Braum stayed in his house for one week before flying back home, and as he stood at the airport, ready to leave, it was a wake-up call. He didn't realize how happy he was with the man, how much he took his stay for granted. When the week ended all too fast, he felt like breaking down. They stood there and hugged each other as tightly as they could, Braum sniffling, his eyes wet with tears. Malcolm rubbed his back comfortingly, hiding his tears a bit better than he did. "It's okay, just come back some time." They knew they were running out of time, so Braum forced himself to let go, giving him a kiss before turning to leave. "I will miss you so much." Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stay strong. "I'm gonna miss ya' too." That was that, back then. They sent each other messages and calls over Skype as much as they could, and they would've texted if the phones would've allowed such a thing.

"Settle down... it'll all be clear -  
Don't pay no mind to the demons, they fill ya' with fear  
The trouble it might drag ya' down...  
If ya' get lost ya' can always be found..."  
It was another month before Braum came back, and he stayed for good that time. He remembered Malcolm smiling so happily when he first stepped into the airport, and he ran to hug him and hold him. Braum cried again, never wanting to let go of his Malcolm. It was unlike anything else he knew, the way Malcolm made him feel special - no one else in the world was even allowed to call him by his first name, without getting an irritated response. He'd always introduce Braum to his friends with such pride, that made him feel wanted, made him feel accepted. His family back home wanted to meet the man badly, and that'll definitely happen - maybe sooner than they all think. He remembered his worries about first coming back, though. He knew he was moving in with Malcolm, because they discussed it beforehand. Were things going to be different when they lived together? The first night he was back, he spent the night in the same bed as Malcolm, and he knew he couldn't live any other way ever again. He needed to see his face whenever he woke up, and he needed to hold him when he needed someone. When he first noticed his dependency of the Texan, he panicked - he's never depended on someone in his life before. He distanced himself from Malcolm for a short time, much to his anxiety, but Braum eventually came to terms with the fact that he was in love, and he'd told Malcolm immediately when he came back.

"Just know you're not alone..."  
What would Braum do without him? He was crying now, hearing his lover's words, and he was disappointed in himself - why was he so emotional? Those times were forever ago, they've been living together for at least a month and a half. Hell, if he was going to relive the past like this, they should start vlogging again, as one channel. He knew Malcolm wasn't particularly into it, which is why his uploads were more sparse than his own, but it'd be fun, wouldn't it?  
"'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home."

All Braum could do was stare at him, trying not to fall into an emotional wreck. When the song was finished, he looked up, previously staring at the ground as he played. Malcolm set the guitar down, staring back. "What's wrong?" Braum shook his head, trying to say that he was fine, nothing was wrong, but he figured it'd be better said in the phrase "I love you so much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTI4ExONgFs  
> Cheesy? Maaaaaybe...   
> I feel like Braum would be a much more popular vlogger than Malcolm ever could be, just because of how adorable he is, and I think that he'd eventually discover Graves's channel just because of the fanbases coinciding on common interests, or something. I don't know. This ship will inevitably be my cause of death, though, let me tell you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The latest chapter you've ever seen  
> (something something Halloween)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shower sex briefly towards the end, then lame-o excuse of a chapter ending. hopefully thanksgiving comes a lot sooner than this, and with more of a plot. woo

Malcolm never liked company, unless they were drinking or gambling buddies. Poker, Blackjack, sometimes even board games if they were really bored - he didn't care what they played, as long as alcohol was involved with money on the table. Rolling dice put fire in his veins, making him have a sort of excitement he hardly ever got. People just weren't his thing. However, his better half (sometimes he truly does think it's the better half) is the opposite. Every holiday, he goes out to buy new decorations to add onto the old collection, then he makes Malcolm help him do work outside and hang them up with him. Halloween is no exception. Never. Every single year, it's the same old nasty artificial cobwebs and gnarly fake skeletons, the styrofoam gravestones to make up the graveyards, the bush with the fake spider on it... The kids (and their parents) loved to visit, usually just to see the array of decorations. Graves was the scrooge of Halloween, he'd always grumble and try to drown out his irritation with music in his headphones while Braum would hum to himself and happily display his scary decor like art.

"Are we done yet?" Graves asked. As soon as it looked like they were almost done, Braum would find something else from their garage to put up. Of course, Braum said "No." Malcolm pouted grumpily, pausing to light a cigarette and cross his arms over his chest while he smoked it. Braum glanced over, rolled his eyes, then went back to decorating. "So grumpy."  
"I'll show you grumpy," the scrooge muttered. He puffed on his cigarette, then took it out of his mouth with his right hand, flicking the ash onto the grass of their front lawn. The only thing he was glad about around this time of the year was the slightly cooler weather. Texas summers can get so overwhelming, it was miraculous Braum was fine with living there, especially since he was used to the cold of the north.

Braum curled his lower lip after some time, since he realized he was doing the work alone, making a saddened face at Malcolm to earn his 'pity'. "Maaaalcooooooolm."  
Graves refused to look at him, turning his head away indignantly.  
The northerner strode closer, arms out in a conciliatory gesture. "Pleeeeeease?"  
He puffed on his cigarette again, once more flicking away the ash. "Hell no."  
Braum wrapped his arms around Graves from behind and leaned over his shoulder to kiss at his cheek several times. The victim of the kisses tried to remain unperturbed, dismissing the affection as trivial and obnoxious.  
"Maaaalcoooolm." He whined again. "Come on, we are almost done."  
"You always say that." Graves didn't budge, but his tenacity was waning.  
"Fine, I guess the pumpkin pie will have to wait until after Halloween."

Malcolm's eyes widened. No. Not the pie. Anything but the pie. He made the best pumpkin pie, and he had no idea how he did it. He wasn't even from America! Braum is a monster, he must be stopped.  
"Haha, let's don't get too hasty now," Graves began carefully.  
"Oh? So the pie is your incentive, hmm?" Braum backed away from his lover, knowing that the fish was hooked on the bait. "It sure would be a shame if these decorations were not put up. Then we would not have Halloween at all, and that would mean no pie at all!" He sighs sadly, almost mockingly, knowing he trapped Graves now. "Do you agree?"  
Malcolm almost crushed the butt of the cigarette in his mouth with the way he clenched his jaw, nowhere willing to part with the pie. It was a tradition, he couldn't deny him that!  
"Fine, fine! I'll help!" He walked over to the sidewalk to toss his cigarette onto the ground and crush it, then resumed helping Braum with the task of decorating. The tradition was always that they'd have pie after finishing up the decorations, and then again after the trick-or-treaters on Halloween. The decorations went up about two weeks before Halloween every year, sometimes less or more time between.

Time went by at its usual pace, until Halloween night. Braum dressed up as Frankenstein, even getting into body make-up to draw the bolts, scars and green skin on himself. Malcolm was much more simplistic, with a lame cowboy costume. He didn't like dressing up, and he already looked the part half the time, so he might as well play the role. As usual, Malcolm handed out candy at the door and Braum would lumber around outside, stiff-legged, to scare the various people that came up their walkway. Children screamed with gleeful fake-fear, giggling when Braum would laugh. "Oh no, Frankenstein!" they'd cry out. Braum would give a throaty "Roar! I will eat you!" or something similar to that. Malcolm shook his head in thought - how could he stand it? Standing there sheepishly with his boots and spurs on was awkward enough, he couldn't imagine himself roaring at kids as they came to get candy out of their bowl.

Eventually, the numbers started to thin out until curfew was in effect, and they stopped all-together. Finally, they could go back inside. Malcolm sighed with relief, taking his boots and hat off as soon as they were back inside. Braum went to go shower, Malcolm's eyes on him the entire time he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He'd love to join him, but he had to give it a few minutes so that his lover wouldn't be green. He checked his phone, played a game for a few minutes, then started heading down to the bathroom as well. He walked in, shut the door quietly behind him, and started taking off his clothes. He could see the worn-out jacket and tattered pants Braum was wearing before now lying on the floor, soon joined by his own costume. Malcolm knocked his knuckle on the door, alerting Braum to his presence. "You still green?"  
Braum looked down at himself. "No."  
Malcolm pushed the curtain aside and stepped in, pulled it back shut, and kissed Braum. He cupped his right hand around Braum's dick, stroking it until it hardened. He then carefully got onto his knees, making sure he didn't slip on the slick floor of the bathtub, and took the tip of the man's length into his mouth, keeping the rest of it cupped in his hand. It tasted mostly like the blank feeling of water, but with the presence of skin nonetheless. He swiped his tongue over the hole on its way down his shaft, taking more of it progressively in his mouth as the tongue slowly moved. Soon, the hand no longer had room to hold. Braum's hands were on the back of his head, clenching his hair in between his fingers. He resisted the urge to push Malcolm, only keeping himself from doing so because he knew that Malcolm might stop. This wasn't a common occurrence.

Braum's heart thumped loudly, excited at this new prospect. It was almost a gift for his lover to do this, he knew how rare it was, and how uncomfortable he felt about having him in his mouth. "You can tell me when to stop." Graves didn't say anything, continuing to work on the man with patience. Slow and steady. More like unbearably slow for Braum, but patience was key. Eventually, Malcolm worked him faster, careful not to gag (that was another reason why it took some time). Braum breathed shallowly, nearing his finish. "Ah! Ah!" Malcolm didn't stop, licking the underside of the shaft as if to tease him for his pleasure. (This better get Malcolm some fucking pie.)

When Braum came, the warm fluid went down the shower drain, because Malcolm refused to swallow. It was gross enough to have it in his mouth, but eating it was...  
Sometimes he'd shudder when he thought about it. He knew putting ejaculate in the drain wasn't healthy for the pipes or the water recycling plants or whatever, but reaching for a trash can was too awkward. Besides, it's not like Braum was a sperm whale that would come gallons or anything.

When they both dressed for bed, they were happy - Braum especially so, because Malcolm didn't let him do the holiday alone. He never has, and he hopes that it'll always be that way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping trip!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "ssg, where is your chapter about Thanksgiving? Christmas? New Years? Are you skipping those holidays?"  
> well, question-asker that totally isn't myself pantomiming someone else, i have no idea if i'll actually get around to those. i don't feel like writing often, and this whole thing is based off of "do i feel like writing?" and if i do, then i go through "okay, so what about updating that fic?" and then i come here if that's also what i want to do. i might get to it eventually if i feel like writing fluffy things, or if someone sends me requests for AUs or headcanons or whatever, but yeah. this chapter isn't really related to the past ones, in respect to chronological order. here's the first update in at least a couple months. woops.

There were words of a recent past conversation echoing in Braum's thoughts - "Some of my old friends wanted me to go on a campin' trip up in Michigan and I wanted to know if you were wantin' to come." Braum had blinked then, dumbstruck and not sure at all what to think. "Michigan? Where is that?" Malcolm only replied by saying "North."

Camping... Braum laid his head back on the seat of the plane as Graves snored loudly next to him, his head on Braum's left shoulder. A wet spot formed near the man's mouth, on Braum's shirt. It was getting difficult to just do nothing while on a six hour flight. His phone didn't have internet connection, his boyfriend was passed out, he couldn't focus on reading a book, and his thoughts were all crowded. The coarse polyester of the seat rubbed roughly against his bald head, so he just sat completely still. Malcolm snorted in his sleep, silencing the snores for a blissful moment, before it started again. Braum sighed heavily, willing himself not to wake him up. Instead, he focused on trying to glean details from the conversations they had again.

"North? But where?"

"It's uhh..." Malcolm furrowed his eyebrows as he focused on making a mental map. "Next to... Wisconsin. Real close to Canada. Think it touches some Canadian land, too."

"And we're talking actual camping? Tents and everything?"

"Yup."

He had gone camping a couple of times with his family when he was younger, when the warmer months came around. It was nice to be outside then - the rest of the time it was always too cold. He remembered what it was like: sleeping in sleeping bags, tents, campfires and bonfires, stories and memories...  
Of course he had to come.

So here he was. Still on this plane, going across the country in order to go "north". Malcolm was getting more invasive by the minute, especially when his mouth was wide open and Braum could have felt his breathing for some time. He could feel some eyes from across the isle watching him occasionally, people disturbed by the sleeping bear in seat 87. Braum decided he had enough, and he gently held up Malcolm's head and spoke softly. "Malcolm." Graves woke up with a start, eyes rolling in his head to focus on Braum. He jumped a little, and interrupted his snore. "Huh?"

"You were snoring loudly and drooling on me. I thought I should probably wake you up."

"Oh." Malcolm was sleepy, and he rubbed his eyes after Braum released his face. "Sorry. Planes'll do that to me."

Braum nodded in understanding, to which Malcolm yawned in response. Braum stood up. "I'll be right back."

"Where you goin'?" Malcolm could barely think clearly, and suddenly Braum was getting up?

"The bathroom," was his reply.

Malcolm watched him as he walked down the aisle towards the bathroom at the front, then he sat back in his chair and rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up. He figured falling asleep would happen, but snoring was bound to get them unwanted attention. He'd stay awake, if he could help it.

When Braum came back, Malcolm was sleeping again, head leaned in the other direction, against the wall of the plane this time. He was sleeping quietly now, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was back to drooling on Braum again. Braum sighed, sat down, and started another round of Temple Run on his phone, trying to distract himself with the boring games that didn't need internet.

When they started to descend, Braum nudged Malcolm awake again. "We're almost on the ground again. Wake up." Malcolm's eyes immediately went to look out the window, seeing the day sky turned dark, and various lights from the quickly approaching ground rising up to meet his gaze. His response was a soft "Mm," as he struggled to wake up once again.

They landed and everyone on the plane started grabbing their things, including Braum. Malcolm was still seated, since he was at the window seat, and he'd probably just be in the way. Braum handed him his luggage, with his own bag in hand, and then he sat back down. They waited for the doors to open so people could leave, and after it wasn't so crowded, they stood and left. Braum held his bag over his right shoulder with Malcolm holding his over his left, so that they could walk side-by-side freely.

Navigating the airport was a bit difficult, but they eventually found the luggage retrieval conveyor belts and found their suitcase - they manged to fit all of their clothes combined in just one - and got to the car rental center. They rented a car, and Malcolm drove, since he knew where to go. "I'm glad you slept, because now I can," Braum mumbled. He was tired after the flight, and his phone was dead.

They drove through the city, passing building after building, until they found a simple townhouse. They parked behind another car on the driveway in front of the garage. Braum was on the verge of falling asleep, but he managed to get himself out of the car, luggage in hand. Malcolm got his bag and the suitcase out of the trunk, then pressing a button on the key to lock the car after he shut the trunk. Braum waited on the sidewalk leading to the door, thinking it's best if Malcolm knocked on the door, since whoever they're meeting knows him.

They went up the walkway together so that Malcolm could knock on the door, putting his suitcase down to do so - and after some footsteps, a woman in black and red answered. She gave a wide grin and turned around to call out "They're here!" She then instinctively went to get their suitcase for them, saying "Oh! Let me get that for you, come in! Nice to see you again Malcolm, and..." She scanned Braum for a moment, trying to recall a name. "Have we met before?" Braum shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm -" Malcolm cut in to say "Let's just do introducin' when we're inside, so we don't have to do it one by one, alright?" The woman shrugged, finding that to be satisfactory, and took their suitcase inside to set it down. Malcolm stepped in, and Braum hesitantly followed, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm Elise, by the way," the woman said. She offered a hand for Braum to shake, which he did shake after putting his bag down. "Thanks for helping. I am Braum." She could tell his accent was foreign, but she paid it no mind. Malcolm set his bag down, then leaned in to whisper to Braum after Elise started walking away. "Don't let her fool ya', she's vicious. 'Specially at games." He followed Elise, and Braum followed the two, unsure of what that was supposed to mean. He had a feeling the entire theme of this trip was him being clueless the whole time.

They turned a corner into a living room with the usual furniture - couch, loveseat, a couple of armchairs, television - with a number of occupants to note. Braum counted at least five other people. Had they been waiting this whole time?

One man stood up from his seat, giving Malcolm a warm hug. "Oi, I didn't know ye were bringin' someone along. Who's that, then?" Malcolm grinned, turning to pull Braum closer. "Braum, this is Plank. Plank, my partner, Braum." Braum noted the word 'partner' - was that a formality, or a subtle indication of their relationship? Either way, the hearty irishman gripped Braum's hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet ye! Been a while since we seen a new face around here." Braum once again felt several sets of eyes watching him, which made him a bit uncomfortable, but he hid it with a big smile and friendly disposition anyway. "Yes, hello everyone! It is nice to meet you, I am glad to be here. I must admit, I don't know what camping in America is like."

Plank answered before anyone else could. "Oh, it's just like campin' anywhere else, y'know." He sat back down, failing to satisfy the questions in Braum's mind. This wasn't going to be like camping in his homeland at all.

He soon learned the names of the other people there - a man named Jayce, a woman named Riven (who Elise seemed particularly close to), Diana, who seemed closed off and distant from everyone else, and Darius, who sat next to Diana. They all definitely had distinctive personalities, which Braum could pick up on right away. Plank was overbearingly friendly and excitable, Elise was pleasant and (dangerously?) polite, Jayce seemed casual and comical with his humor, Riven was relatively reserved but spoke every so often - Darius and Diana both hardly spoke, though the rest of the group made sure they felt included in the conversation. Sometimes they would just speak to each other, in their own bubble - Braum would've been fine with that, if that was him and Malcolm.

After everyone gathered their things, they left in the middle of the night in their respective cars, and drove down the road towards their campsite. Malcolm and Braum were the last two to arrive, since they had to lag behind to wait for everyone else to exit the driveway and garage. The moon was high overhead at that point, and Braum was dead tired. He helped unpack some things, like the coolers and some chairs, but once that was done he sat on a chair next to the cooler and watched everyone else work. Working in the dark was impossible, so everyone had a lamp (except Malcolm and Braum) to carry around to see what they're doing. Malcolm noticed Braum was just sitting by himself, so he came over. "You alright?" He bent over to kiss him, concern in his gaze. Braum nodded, wishing they could just sleep now. "I'm fine, just tired." 

Malcolm put up their tent (which had been in his bag this whole time - Braum carried their toiletries and other supplies in the other bag) and went back to check on Braum. He was dozing off, so Malcolm gently took him by the hand and helped him stand up. "We're almost done babe, just help me get settled." Braum drowsily went to their car to get his bag and his suitcase (now that he thought about it - why did they carry these into that house earlier?) so that he could bring it into the tent. He set their stuff down, and Malcolm started digging into Braum's bag to get out a couple of rolled up blankets, two sleeping bags, and two pillows. While everyone else was settling down for the night, Malcolm was still getting their bed ready, unzipping the two bags so that they could be spread out on the floor of the tent. He tossed a pillow at Braum, who jumped in surprise, and failed to catch it. He picked it up off of the ground as Malcolm flattened out a blanket, placing his pillow on top of part of the sleeping bags. He whispered to Braum to prevent anyone from overhearing. "Come on, sleepyhead." He went to zip the tent shut and help Braum out of his clothes so that he could lay down in his boxers. Malcolm stripped to his boxers as well, and laid next to him. He pulled the blanket over them both, and pressed himself against Braum to wrap his arms around him. "Night," he said. Braum was already asleep.

Later on, Braum blinked awake after feeling a rough prod. He still only saw darkness - was it still night time? Malcolm was still against him, and he felt the prod again, poking his rear. Braum turned and leaned over him to reach for his bag, waking Malcolm up in the process. "Mm?" He felt Braum against him, which made him squeeze him tight. "Babe, what are you doin?" he mumbled. Braum's hands held a bottle, which was somehow faintly familiar, but he couldn't remember what it was for - he only saw a few letters in the faint light of Braum's phone, which was charging on a power strip. He set it down next to them both, and then rolled on top of Malcolm, grinding against him and kissing his neck. Malcolm was then aware of his erection, which must have arisen during his sleep. "Babe, not now," he tiredly whispered. Braum answered by gripping his dick through his boxers, which made him keen softly. Braum nibbled lightly on his shoulder, and suddenly all logical reasoning was thrown away. Malcolm made a quiet needy whine, and Braum reached for the bottle again. He flung the blanket away, and stood up to take off his boxers and coat his length in the bottle's contents. Malcolm took his own boxers off and raised his legs high, eagerly awaiting.

Braum didn't keep him long. He climbed back on top of him and slowly slid into Malcolm, pushing all the way until he was fully sheathed. Malcolm clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure build inside him as he was filled. Braum slid back out, then shoved just a bit faster back in. Malcolm responded in a soft "mmph." It lasted for a few more thrusts before Braum moved to readjust their positions, rethinking their last method. It'd be too noisy in the long run. Instead, Braum sat on the sleeping bags and pulled Malcolm onto his lap, making him have a seat on his cock. Malcolm wrapped his legs around him and pushed himself off of the ground to start bouncing, Braum helping by lifting him up and pushing him down. They were quiet even when they were done, though their rustling wasn't perfectly silent. Jayce was in the nearest tent, and he heard their sleeping bags ruffle in that constant rhythmic pattern, then listened in on their quiet laughter as they settled back down. It didn't take too much intuition to fill in the blanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no but really, if you find me on tumblr and send me asks or comment here i'll probably get to writing out requests. http://sabotagebysabatons.tumblr.com/  
> that's the end of the first part of this chapter! i might not finish it for a while, or ever, or maybe i'll finish it up soon. i'm trying to kind of hint at some possible polyamory, but i'm not sure about how to go with it.


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